


What Have We Here

by ctrl_issue



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M, Knotting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-15
Updated: 2012-08-15
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:37:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ctrl_issue/pseuds/ctrl_issue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Werewolves mate for life, but Natasha knows that Clint is by no means a virgin. So what's wrong with them taking a little 'comfort and joy' from each other? Unfortunately, Natasha isn't getting that there is a difference between sex and mating, and Clint isn't able to 'just have sex' with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Have We Here

**Author's Note:**

> Avengers is not my fandom. I'm going with a slightly twisted Movie!Verse, though, so... that might contribute to any (and I'm claiming all) changes in characterization.

Title: What Have We Here

Fandom: Movie!Avengers

Pairing: Natasha/Clint

Rating: M for Mature

Warnings: Sex between two consenting preternatural creatures (vampire and werewolf), knotting

Author: ctrl_issue

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, though I often wish I owned at least two. This is a work of fanfiction.

Author’s Notes: So, I had an idea. And, really, nothing ever good comes from something like that. But, here it is anyway. Beta’d by the lovely harrycrewe and quotetheravyn. Added and edited afterwards, so any errors are my own.

 

 

-=0=--=0=--=*=--=0=--=0=-

 

 

Natasha let him find her.

 

She knew someone, some random male, had been following her for several months. While most of her kind would have taken the hint to lie low for a while, Natasha found herself far too curious to go into hiding. Being a three hundred year old vampire, not many things could pique her curiosity anymore so she arranged to meet this strange man at a little bar in a little hamlet in the countryside of Germany. As soon as the stranger entered the room, she knew what he was and that it must have been aggravating for him to stalk her.

 

Not many werewolves were willing to go outside their territory for so long. At least, no werewolf associated with a pack, and the ones that weren’t associated with a pack tended to be on the crazier side of insane.

 

Crazy or insane, it didn’t really matter to her. She liked his shoulders, though, and there seemed to be a promise of strong arms underneath his loose fitted black shirt. At first glance, or if one didn’t know what they were looking at, he seemed common. Almost ordinary. But there was something… magnetic about him.

 

Natasha knew to be careful and instinct had nothing to do with it.

 

“Mrs. Natalia Romanova.” He greeted her with a quirk of the lips. “My name is Clint Barton. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

 

“Please, call me Natasha.” She teased. ‘ _American, then._ ’ She’d dealt with Americans before. “So, what’s a werewolf like you doing in a place like this?”

 

“Looking for you, of course.” He replied. The bartender came by and took Clint’s order.

 

“Should I be flattered, then?”

 

“I’m not enough to flatter you, ma’am, and we both know it.” He smiled at her, something sweetly genuine and yet cagey as hell. “Instead, I’m here to tell you a story.”

 

“I’m a bit old for story time.” Natasha replied primly as she took a sip of her own drink: a lovely Bloody Mary, though she had a suspicion that the blood donor’s name was anything but Mary.

 

“There are several groups of people who are looking for you, Mrs. Romanova. And they’re not all the same. They each have their pros and cons and they may or may not talk to you about them, but I will tell you this: most of them won’t take no as an answer.”

 

“And which camp are you with, sir?”

 

“My group is smaller than most, but we tend to get our fair share of action. A lot of us… are not human. Some are, but most aren’t. And we look for like minded individuals, those that are the best at what they do and who can do it without being noticed who want to make a difference one way or another.” Clint said as he pulled his pint to him. “And most of us… have something we need that takes time to collect on the outside. For instance, if you come with us, I can assure you that you will never want for blood or excitement ever again.”

 

“Do you think that is all I require out of my existence?”

 

“No, I think you’re looking for a place to belong, a home where you will not be judged for your past deeds and where your curse can be made into a weapon for the side of angels.” Clint said softly. “We can offer you that.”

 

“But I like what I do. I like the sex and I like the taste of their lust-filled blood in my mouth as I slowly drain them. I like feeling their life enter me. How can you really top that?” She laughed as she pressed up close to him. She had heard that werewolves always ran hot, but this was actually the first time she could get close enough to know for sure. And he was warm. Deliciously so. The preternatural power he possessed leaked out the closer she got to him, and she could only imagine what it would feel like if she were pressed skin to skin against him. If she could taste his blood in her mouth as they fucked. “Or are you offering to be my next meal little wolf? Is your little organization offering me you as payment?”

 

He wanted her, she could smell that flare of arousal. And she wouldn’t have minded having him. So young and strapping and full of life. She could only imagine what kind of animal he would be in bed underneath her. Or - even better - above her.

 

Instead of taking her up on her offer, though, he smile at her, placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead like a father kissing his little girl good night. He slipped a business card, an honest to goodness business card, underneath her bra-strap, hidden along the edge of her shirt. “Here’s my card, ‘Tasha. Think about it. It could be fun.”

 

And then he left.

 

Just like that.

 

Afterwards, she left the little hamlet and tried to convince herself that she was more suspicious than disappointed that he didn’t follow her.

 

Than ran into each other again in London, in Milwaukee, in Perth, in Cairo, in St. Augustine. He never questioned what she was doing there, and she never questioned his help. She did, however, start paying more attention to where she might see him again. Started paying attention to where trouble was really brewing, not just the popular places that the media paid attention to, but the smaller places where the bigger damage could and usually happened. And if she so happened to be there rather than anywhere else, well… that was no one’s business but her own.

 

He was a mystery in as much as he was so open and yet so closed to her. He never lied to her, she could tell by his heart-beat. There was nothing she could do to coerce him to run away with her, either, which was unusual. He protected her as much as he knew she needed, but left her to her own devices just as often. And there was always this… sense that there was something more to him. Something that couldn’t be explained by his title of assassin or the truth of his monthly furriness.

 

Two years to the day of their first meeting, Natasha signed up with S.H.I.E.L.D.

 

Clint Barton, the werewolf archer, became her partner in most of her less-than-covert missions. Phil Coulson, a low-level witch was their keeper. A high level warlock became their leader. They were an effective group, and the small, covert missions that she had to go on by herself were done quickly and effectively. Phil never questioned how or why she managed to achieve her goals so quickly when she went on her solo missions, for which she was grateful because she doubted she would be able to put into words how much more comfortable she was when she was around Clint. It almost felt like she could call it home.

 

As things progressed, she became a member of the Avengers along with a demigod slash alien, a Dr. Jekyll Mr. Hulk scientist, a medically altered human, and a human parading around as a cyborg until he managed his math right enough to become one. Really, one did wonder about a team of people who cursed themselves, or were put into a position of being cursed, and then attempted to save the world when they couldn’t even save themselves.

 

Eventually, Phil died, she and her teammates saved the world a few dozen times, Tony became a real man and then a real cyborg, the demigod found and lost relatives only to find them again, and the world went on. And yet, for as close as she drew to Clint, he never pushed her out of his way but he never took her to bed either.

 

Which, while endearing, was also highly frustrating.

 

 

-=0=--=0=--=*=--=0=--=0=-

 

 

After the twenty seventh time they saved the world from Hydra (or was it the twenty sixth Part B?) Natasha decided that she had had enough. Clint wasn’t getting any younger, after all.

 

Wearing her favorite black dress, Natasha made her way to Clint’s room aboard the carrier. The rest of the Avengers were out at a cocktail party hosted by Stark Industries, so she knew she would have plenty of time. It didn’t take much to find the reclusive werewolf, hiding away in his cubbyhole of a room. He had no television, no radio. Just a well loved book for company. Clint arched an eyebrow at her as she entered his room, possessively locking the door as it slid quietly shut behind her. She wanted privacy with him, and nothing this side of another apocalypse was going to deny her.

 

“’Tasha. I can see your fangs within that smile of yours.” Clint said in way of greeting. “What have I told you about terrifying the locals?”

 

“That it’s all fun and games until we get reported.” She replied back simply as she moved towards him.

 

Clint snickered at that, but let it go as he blocked her move. Instead, he knelt down to his little bar and pulled out two tumblers. The smell of smoky-apple liquor filled the room.

 

“Always on the lookout for trouble?” She asked, leaning her shoulder against his.

 

“What can I say? I like trouble.” Clint smirked to her as he handed her a glass. “I especially like how it usually finds me.”

 

“Are you calling me trouble?” Natasha laughed, delighted. She took her glass out of courtesy rather than desire to drink. No, the only thing she wanted tonight stood in a lovely masculine package.

 

“Perhaps.” Clint replied. “It depends on why you’re here.”

 

“I am here because I am tired of us dancing around each other.” She informed him, being as bold as she wanted because this was Clint. There had never been anyone in all of her eons of living that she dared to be as truthful or as daring as she felt she could be with him.

 

Clint sighed as he put down his drink. He moved away from her and from the edge of the cliff they both knew they were standing on. He turned away from her and stared off at the blank wall as if held the meaning to both of their existences. “I told you before, ‘Tasha. I am not going to sleep with you.”

 

“Yes, but you have never given me a straight answer as to why not. And this time I am not leaving until I am satisfied, one way or another.” She agreed, following him. She would not let him escape. “You are attracted to me, I can smell it every time I come near you. I want you. It can be a simple affair.”

 

“No, it can’t.” Clint disagreed. “Not for me.”

 

Natasha frowned. “You are not a virgin, though I’ve heard that werewolves mate for life. And I am no blushing virgin, either. We are both children of the night, and both in exceptionally exciting and dangerous occupations. I do not see why we cannot take a little comfort and pleasure in each other.”

 

“I’m not interested in ‘a little comfort and pleasure’. And especially not interested in that from you.” Clint replied softly.

 

“Then we can play rough.” Natasha replied with a shrug, stepping closer to him. Placing one hand on his shoulder, she put her untouched drink down. “Clint, I have chased you since you first approached me. I know you are interested in me. Why not let us act on it?”

 

“Tell me, Natasha, have you ever slept with a werewolf before? In all your years, have you ever taken one to bed with you?”

 

“No,” she replied, unsure why that would matter. “You would be my first.”

 

“Then would I be a novelty to you?”

 

“No!” She gasped, stepping back. “That is not what this is about and you know it!”

 

“Then tell me what it is about, really. Is it that you want to try a sample of werewolf blood?” Clint asked as he looked back at his drink, still refusing to look at her. “I remember how you said you preferred to feed while having sex.”

 

“No, I am not after a meal of your blood.” If she had a heartbeat still… well, she had no idea what it would be like, but she knew that it had been a long time since she had been this out of sorts. “I have had my fill of blood for the past week. In fact, I was so gorged on blood earlier I stopped feeding on the Hydra idiots and just ripped out their throats. If I fed on anyone tonight, it would barely be enough for a mouthful. Even so, I know you heal fast. I wouldn’t harm you even if I did steal a bite.”

 

“Then why have you been so persistent, ‘Tasha?” Clint asked, looking at her. Finally.

 

Using all of her speed to move faster than even he could notice, she managed to press him back against the wall separating his sleeping area from his bathroom. She had her hands pressed firmly against his chest, refusing to let him move. The scent of his arousal teased at her senses, and she couldn’t help the slow curl of her toes. “I told you, I want you.”

 

“And?” He asked, his heart pounding beneath her palm. “You’ve wanted many men.”

 

“True.” She smiled at him as she pressed up against him, luxuriating in the warmth of his body and the scent of pure masculinity. “But not like you. I like men, but most men that I like I like for their shine. Each one has been a pretty trinket for me. You? You are more like a good book that I keep with me, re-reading time and time again. Now, I would like to read the sequel, to move on with the story.”

 

The feel of his hands on her hips caused her to take a deeper breath, tasting the air to test Clint’s reactions. She smelled no anger, just confusion. Being brave, she leaned forward to kiss him.

 

Their first true kiss.

 

Natasha had kissed many men through her three hundred years, had done so for many reasons. Not many things took her by surprise anymore, not when it came to intimacy and sex. Yet the pure heat that engulfed her… that was unexpected. Clint’s arms wrapped around her securely, and a low thrum of approval reverberated through her chest. And when Clint’s tongue flicked out, over her lips, asking for permission, she couldn’t help but respond by opening up for him.

 

He explored her mouth thoroughly, neither demanding nor giving. She drew closer to him, like a moth to a flame, and pressed against his body. She could feel the evidence of the arousal she had only scented before, and for the first time in quite a long time her body responded without her conscious thought. For a moment, only the slightest moment, Natasha let herself drift in the sensations. This felt so effortless now that Clint had given in.

 

And just like that, Natasha felt herself pushed off of Clint’s chest and spun quickly around so that she was no pressed face forward to the wall where Clint had just been and the werewolf was pressed firmly behind her, panting into her neck, even as he twisted one of her arms behind her back to keep her pinned.

 

“I am not going to have sex with you, Natasha. I am not going to be one of your marks or meals.” He rasped. “It may not kill me, but it would destroy me.”

 

“What are you talking about?” She asked as she pushed back, trying to get free.

 

“You want a one-off, that’s fine. I can give you that.” Clint whispered darkly against her ear as he slid his free hand up her leg.

 

Up her leg, beneath her dress and into her panties.

 

She gasped as his fingers slid between the folds and went unerringly to play with her clitoris. The calluses on his fingertips felt rough and beautiful against the tender-most flesh and he worked her with precision that left her dizzy with clawing need.

 

“What-what are you…” She breathed even as her body began to writhe in growing need. Her free hand scrabbled at the wall, her preternatural strength allowing her to gouge large claw marks into the metallic surface.

 

“Did you ever stop to wonder how I have always been able to find you, no matter where you are in a given area?” Clint whispered, his breathe hot against her ear and jaw. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss against her neck before sliding his teeth along the flesh, with a gentle promise of elongated canines caressing her. “How you could never sneak up on me, no matter which way the wind was blowing or how quietly you approached me.”

 

She moaned in both frustration and pleasure as she couldn’t find the words to answer his questions. She couldn’t stop herself from responding to his touch, though, rocking against his hand. Each time she pressed back against him, though, she could still feel Clint’s erection, still feel in trapped in his pants.

 

She had never actually hungered for any of her previous partners. Simply wanted. This felt like something more than want. This… this felt like hunger. She hadn’t felt this kind of hunger since… ever, actually.

 

Her orgasm slammed into her from out of nowhere, wracking her entire body in soft tremors. Instead of releasing her like a normal gentleman would, though, Clint moved his hand to slide two of his fingers into the slick, wet evidence of her lust. His thumb continued to play with her clitoris even as his fingers delved into the depths of her wanton core.

 

“You are right that werewolves mate for life, but mating and having sex are two different things depending upon the partner. With you… I can’t have just sex with you Natasha. I could mate with you, though.” He whispered. He continued to rain soft, wet kisses up and down her neck. “Which is why I can’t… do more than this.”

 

When his searching fingers finally found that tiny pleasure spot she let out a whorish moan. She gave up any pretense of resistance to what he was doing to her and just rode his fingers and hand as much as she could considering her limited range of movement. “Clint…”

 

“I’ve thought about it, though.” The archer continued to talk, infuriatingly coherent while she just wanted to melt. “Every time you offered, I would come back to my bunk and think about what it would feel like to have you in my bed. I’d rub myself raw with thoughts about how I could make you beg and pant.”

 

“We could’ve.” She murmured.

 

“Don’t say that…” Clint groaned, pressing his jean clad erection down hard against her ass. He bit down on the back of her neck hard enough to bruise with entirely too human teeth causing her to moan again. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

 

“Clint,” She rasped, sagging back against him. “Please.”

 

With a groan, Clint pulled her away from the wall – one hand still in her panties and the other still holding her wrist firmly behind her. Then he sat down, pulling her down on his lap so that her legs were draped on the outside of his. With her legs splayed wide, there was little pretense of modesty – as if she could even remember when she actually indulged in such a useless custom – and she rolled her hips to allow the werewolf deeper into her.

 

“Would you really want that, ‘Tasha?” Clint asked as she dropped her head back onto his shoulder. “Would you really want to be my bitch?”

 

She clenched down on his fingers, his words sending a sudden, forbidden thrill ricocheting through her. He retaliated by adding a third finger, stretching her open further.

 

“Would you like to come home after a battle just to get on all fours while I breed you?” Clint growled.

 

The magic that made him a werewolf leaked out all over her like a hot blanket. It threw her world sideways all over again. She hadn’t feel it spill out like this since their first meeting. Bucking into his hand, letting those talented fingers slip impossibly deeper, she used her free hand to grab at Clint’s hair, pulling him closer to her neck. Knowing that this was only going to cause her trouble in the long run but unable to stop it, she gasped out, “More.”

 

Clint’s growl turned into a moan. “You have no idea how often I’ve thought about you in my bed, underneath me, begging for that.”

 

“Please.” She nodded, baring her throat to him.

 

He released her captured wrist and instead captured one of her breasts through the soft material of her dress and bra. “That, too.”

 

She was obviously wearing too much clothes, or the clothes were just too complicated for him to remove, so she was going to have to take matters into her own hands. Using the hand he had captured before, she reached back and undid the zipper to her dress. Trickier was getting the bra undone one-handed, but she had been alive far too long for a piece of cloth to get in the way of what she wanted. Letting go of his hair, Natasha shrugged off the top of her dress and threw her bra to the side.

 

The feel of his calloused hand palming her bare breast had her arching into his touch. Her thighs trembled with the growing certainty of a second orgasm closing in on her. When he pinched her nipple, it just made the pleasure thrumming underneath her skin spike. “Yes. I like that.”

 

“I know.” He murmured.

 

Really, it was the confidence he said it with that tipped her over the edge again. She arched off of him, her orgasm white hot in her head and blazing uncontrollably through the rest of her body.

 

She slumped against him again, deliciously lethargic and spent, mindful of the way he panted into her hair.

 

When he regained enough of his control to remove his hand from her panties, he closed her legs so that she was resting across his lap, her head cradled against his shoulder. He wiped his hand on his bedspread before wrapping both of his arms around her shoulders and rocking her gently. Treating her like she was precious.

 

She closed her eyes as he gently kissed the top of her head. Of all the reasons for him to give, the reasoning of being tied to her for the rest of his life… Well, she had certainly been married to worse men, that was for certain. And he wouldn’t be the first good man she had married, either.  

 

It was definitely something to think about.

 

 

-=0=--=0=--=*=--=0=--=0=-

 

 

“So, I’ve thought about it, and I think this is completely doable. Marriage has never been something I was afraid of.” Natasha said two days later. “And it most certainly isn’t something I will regret later.”

 

They were sitting down to breakfast: her to a large mug of warm blood and he had a large plate of mostly steak and egg with a garnish of hash. He had a bite of steak halfway up to his mouth as she said it, and he paused long enough to look at her.

 

“Uhm… okay? Left field, but I’ll roll with it.” He said slowly before consuming the chunk of meat.

 

“I am just thinking that there is nothing wrong with the… possibility of being tied with you-“

 

She stopped as Clint began to choke on his breakfast. Frowning, she moved around the table to pat him on the back, trying to dislodge the offending piece of flesh from his airway. When he started waving her away, his face flushed red, she reluctantly left his side to return to her seat.

 

“Okay…” He rasped, looking all over the place before shoving his tray away. “Okay, this is not happening.”

 

“Why not?” Natasha insisted. “Why do you have such a problem with me wanting to be with you? And you know that now that I’ve set my mind to it that I will refuse any other option.”

 

“Natasha.” Clint sighed as he pushed his still full plate away. He cupped his hands before resting his head on them, effectively hiding his face away from her. He took a deep breath and then dropped his hands. “Okay, let me put it to you this way. If you became my wife, you wouldn’t be able to go out and seduce a mark anymore.”

 

“I didn’t figure you for the jealous type.”

 

“If you became my mate,” Clint said quietly. “I wouldn’t be able to tolerate the smell of other men on you. I would… go… feral. A bit. It happens sometimes.”

 

“With you?”

 

“Sometimes.” Clint hedged.

 

She frowned as she tried to control her own jealousy at the idea that Clint had ever gone feral over anyone but her.

 

“Last week when we were going against the idiots from Xavier’s,” Clint sighed. “And Wolverine practically gutted you.”

 

“That hurt.” Natasha nodded her head as she remembered that. She flashed her fangs in a grimace before she shook her head to try and dispel the lingering memory. She took a sip of her blood as she went back to watching the werewolf across from her.

 

“Yeah, well, you went down and didn’t get up and I… kind of lost it.” Clint said as he rolled his shoulders. A blush crept across his cheeks as he looked back over the rest of the cafeteria. “I couldn’t tell if you were really dead since, you know, you don’t actually have a heartbeat.”

 

“Is that why I woke up with you over me all snarly and furry?” She asked with a grin.

 

“Yeah.” Clint supplied, his blush darkening. “And I couldn’t be controlled until you got up.”

 

“So… if I went and tried to seduce a target, you would get there first and rip him to shreds?” Natasha asked with amusement.

 

Instead of returning her laugh, Clint grimaced. “Not… quite.”

 

“Then explain it to me.”

 

His eyes turned yellow as he leaned forward to growl, “If you came back to our room smelling of another man and sex, I would fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk right and I would make sure that when you finally did manage to leave our room you would still be dripping my cum down your legs, so that no one else would think that they could have you.”

 

The threat should have been disgusting rather than arousing, but she knew when his beautiful eyes blew wide that Clint realized his threat had an unintended reaction.

 

“That makes it sound like I should go on more missions rather than fewer.” Natasha whispered in response. “And you should know, having something alive in me, whether it is blood or… cum, as you so eloquently put it… that was always the best part of my relations in the past. It makes me feel alive again.”

 

Clint closed his eyes and pulled back. She could see him taking deep breaths to try and center himself, trying to calm down.

 

“I don’t know why you’re still trying to fight this.” Natasha said.

 

“I don’t know why you’re so determined.”

 

“You make me happy.” Natasha replied, surprising herself. “Not many things do these days.”

 

Clint looked to the side.

 

“I’ve got time to persuade you, my little wolf.” Natasha purred as she leaned forward. “I’ve got all the time in the world. And if it takes me until you are fifty or seventy or even a hundred, then so be it.”

 

That got Clint’s attention. “Would you really be there? When I’m old and no longer able to keep up with you? Would you really want to stay?”

 

Natasha blinked at him. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I want to stay with you? Even if you couldn’t run with me, even if you could only sit and read with me, or even if you required me to read to you. I like you. You are comfortable and interesting and… I like you.”

 

There were words, of course. More words she could say to convince him, but… there were problems for her to say them. Because she wasn’t sure which words were actually fitting and which words to say and which words to keep to herself. There were too many humans around, too many others around who could overhear and steal her words from her. Too many people around who could steal the things she wanted to say to him. Because some of the words were already stolen.

 

It must have been enough, though. He nodded to her and held out his hand to her. Without hesitation, she gave it to him.

 

“Do you trust me?” He asked, holding her hand.

 

“More than anyone else on all the worlds and all the realms that were ever created.” She whispered to him, far more honest that she thought was decent considering their setting. “I trust you more than I trust myself.”

 

He quirked his lips at that, but then leaned down to kiss her hand. “There will be no chance of divorce.”

 

“I can survive.” She replied with a soft smile. “And if I really wanted a separation, I could just kill you.”

 

“It might be best if you did.” Clint warned her.

 

“I shall take that under advisement.”

 

He kissed her hand again and then stood up. They abandoned their breakfasts, preferring instead to go back to Clint’s room.

 

Once the door shut behind them, Clint pulled her close to him and kissed her soundly. Even without the need for breath, his kiss left her dizzy. “Clothes. Off.”

 

“Best idea you’ve ever had.” She retorted.

 

They stripped quickly and efficiently and then she giggled with glee as she climbed on his too-small-for-two-people bed. He followed her with a grin. Once his body was pressed up against hers, his heat practically wrapped around her, she realized that this was actually happening. He braced himself above her with one arm and then used his other to skim over her side, from her shoulder to her hip and then back up to cup her breast.

 

“All that talk about having me in your bed and you just want to look and pet me?” She asked, running her own hands up and down his chest before wrapping her arms around his neck.

 

“I-I’m not sure if I can be gentle with you.” Clint said roughly. “And I kind of want to savor this.”

 

“I’m not afraid.” She told him. “And we’ve got time enough to savor later.” That seemed to do the trick because he was suddenly pressed completely down on her, crushing her with a kiss that rid any and all thoughts from her mind. He snaked one hand into her hair, pulling delectably even as he kneed his way between her legs. Knowing the lesson from their last encounter, she relaxed into it, letting Clint take over. When she felt his fingers tracing around her clitoris again, she couldn’t stop the reckless moan that poured from her throat.

 

He did not disappoint, bringing her right to the cusp of orgasm and then backing off. She tore her mouth away from his to offer her throat to him, cursing in languages she didn’t even realize she remembered anymore. She writhed even as she opened her legs wider, tilting her hips to offer him better access.

 

It was an offer he quickly took.

 

She felt his fingers slip into her, spreading her, testing to see how ready she was. And then they were gone. When she felt the blunt head of his cock pushing at her entrance, she could have wept from relief, knowing that he wasn’t going to leave her dissatisfied and unfulfilled. Not that he did last time, but this time… she wanted it all. The burning stretch of her body trying to accommodate him was utter bliss, and as he bottomed out into her, she could only wrap her legs around him to try and get him deeper. He gave a rumble of approval even as he breathed against her neck.

 

“I’m going to start moving.” Clint warned her. “And I’m not going to stop until I tie you to me.”

 

She closed her eyes at that, not sure what he meant and not really caring. She let go of his neck a reached down to cup his ass to pull him in deeper.

 

He gave a deep moan, and then shivered against her. “If you want to drink from me, do it then.”

 

She nodded and then dropped a kiss on his cheek. “Just move.”

 

Ever the good soldier, he followed orders and began to thrust into her with long, powerful strokes. He kept hold of her hair, pulling back with each forward plunge. She knew he was powerful just from having fought by his side for so long, and she could only open her mouth in slack-jawed pleasure as he used that power to bring her pleasure. The promise of elongated fangs against the alabaster skin of her throat continued to thrill her as he placed wet hot kisses and gentle nips at random. His free hand moved everywhere, and she delighted in the way he would knead her breast or roughly caress her body. She could only return the favor, giggling each time she made him moan or shudder over her, and then she was left gasping as he returned her laughter with a sharper, more powerful thrust of his hip.

 

She had made a life of seducing men into marrying her, sleeping with them until she drained them dry, but this was the first time that she thought more about the pleasure of the act rather than the function. The first time that she gave up control enough to enjoy herself. Her second orgasm washed over her, but Clint continued to thrust, forcing her to ride it through. After that, she simply basked in Clint’s attentions. She lazily put her hands on Clint’s shoulders and started whispering things to him, whispering every dirty fantasy she ever had about him and every dirty thought that came to her. He growled in response, then reached down to start playing with her clitoris again, knowing full well that she enjoyed it.

 

She released a low moan as a third orgasm slipped under her skin and rippled through her body. That was when things… changed. She felt Clint growing bigger inside of her as she tightened around him, and at first she thought it was an illusion. However, her body burned each time he thrust forward, trying to accommodate the larger and larger size of him until the last of her orgasms after shocks dissipated and he stilled inside of her, too large by half to be really comfortable and far too large to actually be withdrawn completely. It felt… magnificent, actually, to be so open and wrecked and held.

 

“Clint?” She asked with a shudder, his size still enlarging within her.

 

“Shhh.” He hissed back. The hand holding onto her hair tightened, pulling back her head so that he cold kiss all along her throat. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

 

“What’s going on?” She asked him, hating how small her voice sounded.

 

“Tying. The knot.” He grunted into her ear. He trembled for a moment before she felt the hot rush of his seed pouring into her. She gasped at the sensation of life entering her again. “Bite me now, ‘Tasha. Taste me.”

 

She didn’t have to be told twice. Going on blind instinct, she turned to the side and quickly buried her fangs into his neck, drawing out the headiest mouthful of blood she had ever tasted before. Thick and potent and full of life, just like the man himself. Within just two pulls of that red drug, she found herself drunk from it. The lust she had expected was there, true, but so was a power and vitality she hadn’t predicted. There was another component to his blood, an unnamed something, that made the cocktail almost lethal. She licked the puncture wounds clean with her tongue and then leaned back into the pillows on the bed, uncaring if the world went and fucked itself because she felt… so whole at the moment that nothing else mattered to her.

 

When Clint rested back down on her, still hard within her, she allowed her feet to drop back to the bed. For the next ten minutes, as they remained locked together by his odd, shape-shifter anatomy, she stroked her hands down his back and whispered words of endearment into his ears. Most weren’t in English. Or French (because she had a suspicion that he understood French and what s the point of endearments if he could understand them?).

 

Eventually, all good things had to end, and Clint’s orgasms wrung him dry and soft enough to pull out. She held him in, though, for as long as she could, until even she had to acknowledge that their coupling was done.

 

For now, at least.

 

She pushed him onto his back as she climbed over him and quickly slipped into the bathroom to wash herself off. She did it as efficiently as possible because any wasted time spent in the washroom was time she could have spent still in Clint’s bed. Which she found just as warm and inviting as when she had left it once she returned.

 

There was some interesting arranging of bodies on the narrow mattress, but neither one thought for a moment that she should return to her own quarters. When Fury’s voice came over the intercom to call them to report, she picked up the phone and dialed in. “We’re very, very ill today and neither of us are reporting. At least not for a full week.”

 

“You’re very ill?” Fury’s voice replied dryly. “You’re dead.”

 

“So you can tell how very ill I am.” She responded. “And so Clint and I are going to recover. For a week.”

 

“For a week.”

 

“That’s how long honeymoons last these days, yes?”

 

There was a significant pause on the other end, while Clint laughed into her shoulder. Finally, Fury’s voice came back. “You have a week to get over your newlywed affliction. Don’t let it interfere with work afterwards.”

 

“Understood.” Clint replied for her.

 

They laughed together as they burrowed back under the covers.

 

She knew that life together, such as it was when one partner was a vampire, would not be beautiful. There would be a lot of death along their path, and there would be a lot of heart-ache. But they had time to enjoy as well, time to gather plenty of good memories to last them through the troubles that were bound to spring up.

 

Natasha had let him find her that first time. She just didn’t realize how lost and alone she had been at the time.   

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm normally a slash writer. It has been a long, long, long time since I wrote het sex. My apologies if I'm a little rusty.


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